OK I tried to start Jonathan Franzen's "The Corrections" but it was depressing the crap out of me and I don't need more of that. I'm already sulky and moody enough, thank you. So I grabbed "The Time Traveler's Wife" instead and if that isn't better I'll have to take drastic measures and break out the Jennie Crusie mindcandy I have stashed away.
I think I'm having a midlife crisis. T says he doesn't know what's wrong with me, "We've been plugging away just like always," he says. This says to me that he is happy doing what he's always done. Which is great. But I feel furious even thinking about it. I think I should be happy but I'm not. I'm bored, restless, irritable, lonely and my back hurts.
I think this restlessness is a way of courting disaster. Part of my drama queen psyche seems to like to shake things up to feel something, which is a seriously messed up way to be. WHY can't I just be happy?
Supposedly exercise helps "the blues" or whatever you want to call it. Maybe I should try it. I do enjoy throwing myself in to a big project, something that takes hours because then I just get wrapped up in what I'm doing and don't have the opportunity to overthink things.
I'm really in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady.
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A little poetry, but mostly just the weird stuff that comes out of my head
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2 comments:
sounds like we've been feeling the same way. It's no fun, is it? I've heard The Time Traveler's Wife is a good book, though. I'm going to have to pick that one up. Are you enjoying it?
I AM LOVING THIS BOOK!!!
So addictive.
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